Maybe This Wasn't The Best Idea
by SirTubbington
Summary: Senior Year. Nationals. Brittany and Santana have the leads, but there is huge drama leading up to the starcrossed lovers' duet.
1. Chapter 1

Santana and Brittany were breathing heavy with their eyes locked on each other in the overly packed theater. Their sexual tension could be felt from the people standing outside of the theater waiting to get inside. Brittany had full on eye contact with Santana after singing their epic duet at the famous Orpheum Theater in San Francisco. Santana's eyes were bloodshot from her crying throughout their heartfelt performance. Brittany wanted to hug her, wanted to kiss her for heaven's sake, but all she could do was look into those eyes. Those eyes that she once had a chance with. Her mind was wandering and she could hear her thoughts inside her head.

_If this looks like we are so into each other…you are completely wrong. Well, at least half wrong. Because before this, me and Santana—we were together. Like officially, Ellen and Portia official. And before this duet, we were happy. Why this ended up this way, I can't seem to remember. I can't seem to believe it. All of our hard work, all of our drama. It all added up to this exact moment and this was supposed to be a happy moment, shit, this was supposed to be a milestone in our surreal relationship. But at this moment all I could think about was everything but happiness. All I could think about was how this gorgeous girl who was heads over heels in love with me, was no longer at my grasp. She wasn't...mine anymore. And I knew what to blame it on. _

_Nationals._

* * *

><p>*A Few Weeks Earlier*<p>

Mr. Schuester entered the noisy classroom filled with over-grown children who he had to believe were seniors already. _Time does really fly by_, he says to himself. He smiles and turns towards the white board grabbing the white board marker, uncapping it. He starts scribbling down big letters as the classroom started to quiet down.

"Mr. Schuester?" Quinn says, "If whatever you're writing on the board is what we're doing for Nationals—" She pauses after Mr. Schuester added a period to the two words he put up on the board. He was waiting for the complete and never-ending complaining of Quinn's sentence.

"—I am totally for it." She says surprisingly. Her smile matches Mr. Schue's and he looks back at the words he wrote.

_Starcrossed Lovers _was written in red ink.

Mr. Schuester walked towards the class, putting his fingertips together, to explain the approved words written on the board.

"Based on the epic romance of Romeo and Juliet, these two words defined who they were and who they were to become. Both of their lives were a tragedy filled with misconceptions and mayhem, but most of all, filled with their undying love for each other. I want the judges at Nationals to feel our tragedy. To feel everything we've been through. I want them to see our experience through the epic ballads of romance. Because I know our little club has experienced all sorts of that."

The group all laughed softly at the comment.

"This is our chance to be everything theatrical. I want our performance to be like a compact version of a broadway musical. This is our last chance guys and we have to make it count."

The club all clapped and celebrated in agreement. Rachel was standing up with a giant smile on her face, clapping her little heart out.

"I fully agree with this proposition, Mr. Schue. I, for one, suggest we have an over-the-top romantic duet to start off our little show. And I think Finn and I should do the duet."

"Oh, hell to the naw!" screams Mercedes, "If there be anybody who's starcrossed lovers here, it be Me and Sam. _We_ are doing the duet together."

Sam looks at Mercedes with his dapper smile, as Mercedes blows kisses at him.

"Ugh, get a room." Puck says disgustingly. "Mr. Schue, I've got this duet in the bag. Lauren and I are gonna kill this sucker." He looks at Lauren winking, "This was meant for us, babe."

"Guys! Guys!" Mr. Schue says to try to calm the crowd down, "Yes, I was planning to have some opening duet for this particular show. And I predicted that this problem was gonna come up. So I'm gonna leave it up to the unspoken."

Mr. Schuester walks toward the end of the classroom towards two girls with linked pinkies.

"Brittany. Santana." He says looking at both of them. "I want you two girls to do the honor of opening for us for Nationals."

They both were in awe as with the rest of the club. Everybody was in complete shock at this quick decision Mr. Schuester made.

"I wanted you two to do the duet because you two deserve it." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Santana—I know, a few months ago, it was hard for you to come up in front of the club and tell everybody that you were, together, with Brittany. It took courage and heart to do that. And I applaud you for that. I am so happy for you guys."

The room was still in silence as Mr. Schuester continued on with his speech.

"And to have this epic love that Romeo and Juliet had, they had to be willing to sacrifice and to be willing to put aside their own fears, in order to be with their other half. Doing whatever it takes to make your loved one happy is what 'starcrossed lovers' is all about. And I want the living story to be put up on that stage during Nationals."

The silence, then filled with clapping and whooping the names of Brittany and Santana. Santana, then held her hand up to motion the silence.

"I know, Britts and I are together and whatever now. But, Mr. Schue, I don't think I'm ready to go in front of a huge audience to confess my love to Britt. It was already scary enough in front of you guys and I don't want to be swinging my hips and belting out notes while I'm at it."

Mr. Schue's smile slowly turned into a frown.

"Well, I'm ready." Says Brittany.

Mr. Schuester and Santana are equally surprised. "Really you are?" they say together.

"Yeah." Brittany now faced Santana, with a serious look. "I know, Santana, that you aren't ready, but I want this to be our moment. I want us to shine, baby."

Santana couldn't resist the overly cute facial expressions Brittany gave when she was serious. She was in deep thought as the rest of the group anticipated her answer.

Santana exhaled a heavy sigh.

"Fine, babe. But just for you."

Brittany smiled and kissed Santana on the cheek sweetly. Everybody clapped with joy except for one certain boy in a wheelchair. Artie did not like this "star-crossed lovers" shit everybody was so excited for. He seemed to be the only one who was single besides Quinn. But Quinn accepted her independence and was proud of it; Artie on the other hand was in full disgust with his single status. He was dumped twice and he couldn't stand all this mushiness.

He then had a suspicious smile on his face. He was gonna do something about this shit. Everything was about to go down.


	2. Chapter 2

The bell rang and Mr. Schue didn't have to say anything before everybody stood up and ran out the door. Mr. Schue was packing up sheet music into his satchel when he was confronted by a wheelchair.

"Mr. Schue?"

"Yes, Artie?"

"Um, I'm not very comfortable with the arrangement you made for Nationals."

"Okay, tell me Artie. What do you not like about it." Mr. Schue says after putting the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

"Well, this is a very couple, lovey dovey type of an assignment and you may not be aware, but I don't have any…significant other."

"Artie—this assignment isn't about having a significant other. It's about the experience of love and tragedy."

Artie looks at Mr. Schue in confusion.

"In your years in Glee club, you've experienced both of these things, right?"

"Yeah, fursure. _Many times."_

"See, our club is defined by these two words. If you aren't in love, you are in some sort of drama or vice versa. And usually it's in some sort of combination of both."

"But Mr. Schue—"

"Artie, don't worry about it. If you want a solo or something, I bet I can squeeze something for the singletons of the group."

Mr. Schue looked at the door.

"Artie, I really have to go now, we can talk about this later."

Mr. Schue walked out of the door with Artie by himself. Artie slowly rolled out of the room when his eye caught Santana by her locker. He rolled more quickly towards her before she could leave.

Santana closed the locker and she saw the wheel-chaired boy in front of her.

"What, cripple?"

"Santana. You fuckin think you own everything don't you?"

"Yeah, what's your point."

"Well I'm tired of all your shit. You take Brittany away from me and then you just steal the show for Nationals. It isn't fair. It isn't fuckin' fair."

"What, are you gonna start crying in front of me Abrams? Because I've got better things to do other than you retelling the story of my life."

And then Artie rolled closer into Santana, so close that his wheel touched the tip of Santana's toe. Santana jumped from the out-of-character move Artie just did.

"I am fuckin tired, Santana. Can't you see? My life is a frickin mess. I can't take this anymore. I am in a frickin wheelchair—"

"Don't pull the wheelchair card on me Abr—"

"—SANTANA. LISTEN TO ME. I don't care. I don't fucking care. You turned my girlfriend into a frickin lesbian. You took her away from me. And I can't just let you get away with that. I'm gonna make you're life a living. hell."

"oo. I'm soo scared." Santana says sarcastically.

"I'm not kidding, Lopez. Not until, you give up your duet with Brittany. Because she will be mine. You have to face it. In the end, Brittany will be mine."

Artie rolled passed Santana as she stood there frozen.

_Was he serious?_

Santana shrugged off the threat and met up with Brittany in the front of the school. She saw her girlfriend smile that smile that made her knees weak. As she held the hand of her one-and-only, she couldn't help but have that scared feeling in the back of her head.

* * *

><p>The next day, Santana was at her house, searching for a perfect song she could sing with Brittany. She was actually excited for this duet with her hubby. She was sitting on the couch, one leg crossed underneath the other, with her laptop on her lap. She had a bowl of grapes next to her, which she was subconsciously munching on. On her computer screen, she was looking through her iTunes library as well as searching through the internet for "Romantic Duets for your Girlfriend." Those were the exact words she put into the search bar, but it wasn't very successful since none of the songs really spoke out to her. She didn't want a song that explicitly proclaimed her love with a side of cheese-filled fluff.<p>

No, she wanted a song that told their story. She wanted a theatrical song. _Maybe, I should get a song from a musical, _she thought. When she put musical at the end of the search bar, the door bell rang. She didn't expect anybody at the house until later, when her parents would come home from work. She stood up in annoyance and the doorbell rang 20 million times after that. The beginning tune of the door bell kept on repeating and it pissed the hell off Santana. _Who in the hell is the fuckard that's abusing my door bell. _

She looked through the door bell and nobody was there. _Oh hell no. Somebody did not just ding dong ditch me. _She ran out of the house, hoping to catch the soon-to-be-dead bastard that made Santana stand up for nothing. But when she reached her front yard, nobody was there. And she looked down the street, hoping she would see some freshman boy running. But nobody. She sighed and turned around to face the front of her house in which she stood in shock. Her eyes started to fill with tears as she looked at the words tagged on the garage door.

_Fuck the Starcrossed Lesbos. Fuck them to hell._

Santana stared at the words and fell to her knees from the weight of sadness, of anger, and of confusion. She sobbed in front of her house as she took the cell phone out of her pocket. She speed dialed number one as she heard the phone pick up.

"Hey you, what's up?"

"Brit—" Santana cried into the phone, "—Brit. Come here, Brittany. Please…"

Brittany didn't have to say anything back as she hung up and dashed out of the house and ran to her girlfriend's house.

The wheels of the wheelchair squeaked behind Santana as he held the can of spray paint in his hand. He had this feeling that was a mixture of guilt and satisfaction, but he was contemplating if this was too much. The plan sounded so good in his head when he asked– His thoughts were then interrupted from the sudden hand that was placed on his shoulder. Artie looked up to see a menacing smile look down on him.

"Part one of Mission: Take down the Gays is completed. You did good, Abrams. You did good."


	3. Chapter 3

_Who in the hell would do this? _Brittany thought, as she was holding the sobbing Santana in her arms on her bed. Brittany helped Santana clean up the mess before her parents could see. When Brittany first saw those words, she simply stood there in shock and immediately ran to comfort her girlfriend.

Brittany saw the towels tossed aside onto the computer chair. The red paint stained onto the towel reminded her of blood, and it made her shiver. They did not say a word too each other for about two hours. They could still see the words slashed onto the garage as if the image was printed onto the outside of their eyes. They could not shake it off and Santana cried even harder. Her tears were running down Brittany's arm and she took in deep long breaths trying to breath in between her sobs. All Brittany could do was put her hand over Santana's hair and hug her tighter.

"San—" Brittany said, breaking the silence, "shh…it's going to be okay."

Santana lifted her head from Brittany's arm and looked at Brittany with an angry confused look.

"How can you say that Britt? How are you not upset about this?"

Brittany took in a deep breath and took some time to organize her thoughts.

"I'm not upset, Santana, because I know that those words are just words."

"But, they're words that hurt, Britt. _A lot_."

"I know, San. I know." Brittany rearranged her sitting position so she was facing Santana and looked straight into her eyes. "And I know, that you and me are going to get over this. So, Santana, I need you to be the strong and gorgeous girlfriend that I love because, San, we _will _get over this."

Santana simply nodded and hugged her. She smiled at Brittany as they moved back to release the embrace and Brittany kissed Santana on the lips. She kissed her like everything was going to be okay as long as they were together. And Santana gripped Brittany on the hips as their kiss became more intense. Brittany then kissed away all the tears on Santana's face, as they sat in the darkness with the image of the garage door still haunting in their eyes.

* * *

><p>The whole spray-paint problem was kept a secret. Nobody else saw in the neighborhood besides the two girls. Brittany and Santana arrived at Glee Club, pinkies linked. They both agreed that they would act like nothing happened and with entering the door, both of them smiled nervously trying too hard not to break. They sat down in their usual two seats in the back as Mr. Schue entered the door.<p>

"Okay, you guys! Let's get down on this whole National's business. Let's start with some brainstorming on our musical-like performance."

Rachel raised her hand immediately after the word "musical."

"Yes, Rachel?"

"I know that everybody might not be as educated in the broadway business, as I am, but I would like to suggest to do something on the lines of the famous Ms. Judy Garland's musical, _Meet Me in St. Louis. _Where the two main characters start off as neighbors, in which they fall desperately in love with each other after a romantic scenery of turning off the lights."

"Did she just say, the two people fell in love from making the light switch from on to off?" Mercedes whispered to Kurt.

"You mean they were about to have sex, right?" Puckerman questioned, bluntly.

"_No, _Noah. They did not have sex." Rachel said, "They had a simple person to person encounter which was sparked by turning off the lights."

"Rachel," Mr. Schue interrupted, "I do like the idea of having some sort of storyline that starts off with a simple gesture. It will be like the Starcrossed Lovers don't need anything extravagant to immediately fall for each other. Thank you Rachel for your suggestion."

Rachel smiled so proudly that her teeth were blinding half the club. That shine was completely overshadowed by the sudden interruption of a boy in the wheelchair.

"Well, I think it's stupid," Artie said bluntly. "Two people, just don't fall in love from stupidly going around and making the room go dark. I mean, anyone can do that. If that was even true, that means everyone in this room would be heads over heels in love with me. And you know, I wouldn't mind that sort of lovin'"

"Now Artie," Mr. Schue said, "I know that you aren't too thrilled with this assignment, but please bear with us. It will get better."

Artie scoffed at Mr. Schue's comment.

"Wait Mr. Schue," Sam said suddenly, "I actually second whatever Artie, just said. I mean, I'm really into my girl and all," He winked at Mercedes, "but I just think Artie's right. People just don't fall in love after a cheesy montage. It takes work."

"Preach, my brother," said Artie as he high-fived Sam, "I think, the leads for Nationals should be for a couple that isn't a sickening stereotype of high school puppy love."

Santana then, stood up angrily as she stomped towards Artie.

"So, you think that whatever me and Britt have isn't real?" screamed Santana.

"Woah, woah, Santana calm down!" Mr. Schue interjects stopping Santana in her tracks.

"That's what exactly what I think," Artie says without hesitation.

Mr. Schue was holding back Santana as she charged for the wheel-chaired boy. Artie sat there smiling as Santana was about to kill him.

"You fucking cripple! You were the one that wrote all those fucking things about me and Brittany!" Santana said while struggling from Mr. Schue and, now, Finn and Puckerman's hold.

"MS. LOPEZ," Mr. Shue yells, "Office. Now!"

Santana stormed out the door, slamming the door behind her before anybody could see her sob. Brittany was about to follow Santana until Mr. Schue stopped her.

"Brittany—" Mr. Schue said, "what was Santana talking about with the 'things' about you and Santana."

Brittany hesitated not knowing what to do and she was a bit dizzy from all the drama going all at once that she said, "Nothing, Mr. Schue. She was just um, confused with something else."

"Okay, but tell me if there is anything wrong Brittany, please."

She nodded as Mr. Schue dismissed class early as he headed to the principal's office. Artie just sat there smiling and looking back at Sam who had the same menacing smile.


	4. Chapter 4

The hint of mischief surrounded the two boys, Sam and Artie. Once everybody left the choir room, Sam walked towards Artie and ended their distance with a fist bump.

"Nice touch on the plan, Abrams. You really erupted the vocal violence out of Ms. Lopez."

"Yeah, I wanted to mix things up a bit," Artie paused, "Wait, Sam, why are you helping me again? My purpose is all about getting my girl back…do you want Santana or something?"

"Oh hell no, I don't want that bitch. She already dumped me once."

"Then, what's in it for you?" Artie asked.

"Don't worry about it Abrams, I've got my own reasons."

* * *

><p>Mr. Figgins and Mr. Schue held Santana hostage in the principal's office. She sat with her legs crossed and a straight face the whole entire cross-examination. Mr. Schue was leaning on the bookcase, with his arms crossed and a worried look. Mr. Figgins' was behind his desk with his fingers intertwined.<p>

"Ms. Lopez," Mr. Figgins said, "please, enlighten me on why you verbally abused Mr. Abrams today in the choir room."

"Can't say," her eyebrows raised, "I just wanna get out of here."

Mr. Figgins did not have the patience today.

"Ms. Lopez, the sooner you spit out why you did it, the sooner we will get out of here."

Tension and silence filled the room. Mr. Schue was the first one to break the quietness.

"Santana, please! We are only trying to help you."

Santana then adjusted her seating towards Mr. Schue.

"Help me or punish me? I know I threw in a few f-bombs towards the cripple, yeah, yeah, detention—whatever. But Mr. Schue, the reality is you can never help me."

Mr. Schue looked at Santana and then back at Mr. Figgins.

"Mr. Figgins can I have some time alone with Santana. Just a few minutes, please."

Mr. Figgins nodded. He was going towards the door, but before he left he turned to Mr. Schue.

"William, you better get all of your glee club drama fixed by the end of this week. I am sick and tired of teenagers—especially from glee club—coming into my office."

"Yes, Mr. Figgins," Mr. Schue sighed.

Mr. Figgins left the room leaving Mr. Schue and Santana alone. Santana was now facing away from Mr. Schue.

"Now, Santana. Is this about you and Brittany?"

"And what if I said yes, Mr. Schue? I don't think you can help me push Artie off a cliff."

"What did Artie do, Santana?" Mr. Schue put his hand on Santana's shoulder. "Please, you can trust me. Just tell me the truth."

* * *

><p>"Sam, c'mon tell me the truth."<p>

"Maybe another day, Abrams. I don't feel like spilling out my guts to you right now."

"Fine." Artie started to roll out of the classroom, but he turned towards Sam at the last minute. "Then you're out of the plan."

Sam quickly ran towards Artie and grabbed his wheelchair.

"Abrams, c'mon—my brother—I'm just trying to make things interesting. You can't just kick me out of this just because I'm not telling you my reasons."

"Well, I am. Deal with it." Artie tried to pull away from Sam, but Sam made Artie face him.  
>"Wai-wait. I'll tell you, Abrams. But you better not tell anyone or else I will make you even more crippled."<p>

"Okay, spill."

"The truth is…" Sam paused, "The truth is, I'm trying to hide."

"Hide…from what exactly?"

Sam pushed his hair back with his hand and then fixed his letterman. He was a nervous wreck.

"I'm try-trying to hide that I am capital g, a, y, gay."

"What?" Artie screamed.

"Don't 'what' me Abrams. I just thought doing all of these things to Brittany and Santana would shake the gay out of me. I mean, I just want a normal tough-guy reputation. I can't let myself being gay ruin all of that. I need to be popular. I know it's stupid, but you have to hear me out. I need this popularity. It's the only thing that's going to actually give me the confidence to maybe someday come out to everyone. But not now. "

"What?" Artie was still in a mixture of confusion and shock.

"You can't tell anyone Abrams, if you do I will kill you."

* * *

><p>"I just wanna kill him, Mr. Schue," Santana said, "That's the truth. He's just been an annoying little bitch, and I just wanna kill him."<p>

Mr. Schue couldn't get the truth out of Santana and he was worried about her.

"I don't understand, why you just can't tell me, Santana. You're just making your problem worse."

Santana wanted to tell Mr. Schue the truth. She did. She wanted to snitch that little cripple and make him pay. But she didn't want to deal with all the complicated consequences, especially with the rumor mill spreading her relationship with Brittany. She didn't want all that drama. All she wanted was Brittany.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue. I can't."

Mr. Figgins came inside his office with a fresh new cup of coffee.

"Okay minutes up and I'm tired of all of this. Ms. Lopez, consider this a warning and don't cuss out any other student any time soon. Now, please Mr. Schue, please escort Ms. Lopez out of my office."

Mr. Schue led Santana out of Mr. Figgins' office and saw Brittany waiting outside. Before he let Santana escape from his sight, he turned to her.

"Santana, this isn't over. When you're ready to tell me, my doors are always open."

Santana nodded and took the hand of her blonde. Brittany had a worried look on her face, but Santana reassured her with a nod that their secret was still safe.

* * *

><p>"Your secret is safe with me, Sam. Don't worry."<p>

"So I'm back in the club?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, you are," Artie said, "I need to get my girl back, I just have to."

"So let's initiate part two to our master plan."

"Good idea, let's do this shit."


End file.
